In The Creases
by SilverStarsAndMoons
Summary: Finn has never really gotten over Quinn - she's always in the creases of his mind and heart. A short fic detailing how she stays with him, even after he's moved on.


He gave her the baby blanket because she was upset. That was his first reason for giving it to her, but he also wanted to be a father to this child. He wanted to comfort him or her in the best way he knew how, and he wanted to take care of his girlfriend.

Quinn gave new meaning to the term "basketball belly". Finn often wanted to poke the hard, rounded shape under her stomach, but he didn't because he was afraid he'd hurt the baby, and also because he was sort of afraid Quinn would judge him. She yelled at him so often now, and he'd stand dumbly in the hall while she yelled, stomped her foot, bashed a fist into her locker and then cried.

She was only quiet when he'd envelope her with his body, breathing into her hair, inhaling her light, floral scent. And when he wrapped the blanket around her body, and she pulled the frayed, slightly dirty fabric close to her face, curling more tightly into him, he was able to forgive her for all of her other issues and for the many hurts he endured.

He was dumb, but he was there to take care of her. He'd close his eyes against her cool blonde hair and take care of her.

/~/

Rachel was different than Quinn, though not much. She was still shrill and annoying, and still angry at him most of the time, and he still didn't really know how to deal with it when she threw one of her hissy fits. Sometimes the sound of Quinn's voice and the sound of Rachel's voice would blur together in his head and he couldn't figure out which girl was angry – which one felt his inadequacy. So he'd shut down and shut his eyes and try to imagine the good times with both girls.

Most of the time, though, he remembered times in Quinn's room when they were supposed to be doing Bible study, but she let him touch her boobs, or walking with her to school, her ability to keep up with his long stride. He remembered cheering for her as much as she cheered for him, watching her athletically jump to the top of the pyramid, or lead the team in a complicated cheer. He watched her take pride in what she could do without needing to brag – something that he seriously dislikes in Rachel.

Not that he likes to compare women – well, as much as any guy can help it – but he wishes that Rachel could take a leaf out of Quinn's book. He wishes that not because one is more stable than the other, or better than the other, or smarter than the other – but because Rachel just doesn't feel the same as Quinn in his arms. She doesn't have the same soft fragility or bravado.

And in short, because he's never really gotten over Quinn Fabray.

/~/

She never did use that dirty old blanket for her daughter – her daughter, not his, but Noah Puckerman's tiny little blonde sprite of a daughter. She stuffed it back into his locker with a slightly disgusted and slightly regretful expression. She did thank him. He kicked the locker door after she walked away and ripped down the picture of the Glee club at Regionals.

It bothered him even more that the blanket smelled like her, and for days afterwards, every crease and fold held her perfume.

Later, he listened to Rachel droning on and on about some show tune or whatever, and he held her in one arm, slightly awkwardly, as her hands were still out and waving in the air in time to her conversation, while he watched Quinn cross the room, sit on a chair demurely, and start laughing with Santana and Brittany, who had gradually accepted her back into their fold.

He briefly remembered holding Quinn after one of the Cheerio pranks – her body extra-hot in his arms because of her pregnancy and elevated temperature – and pushed it out of his head.

He left Rachel at her next class and went to his locker, staring blankly at it for a full minute before he realized that he had forgotten his combination. He felt a slight rustle at his side and a hand entered his view, deftly spinning the combination lock until it snicked open, almost without noise.

"You never did remember it. I told you to write it down."

Her slightly nasally voice pierced his reverie and he looked down, meeting hazel eyes staring into his. She smiled, a bit satirically. "I don't think Rachel will remember it for you."

She walked away, and he watched her go.

Then he tacked the Glee club picture back up into his locker, squeezed the dusty blanket lying in the bottom of it, and closed his face for his next class.

In the creases – she always would be on the edges, in the creases, and in his heart.


End file.
